Youve got to pull yourself together, he said with soothing gruffness.
Wilsons eyes fell upon Tom; he started up on his tiptoes and then would have collapsed to his knees had not Tom held him upright.
Listen, said Tom, shaking him a little. I just got here a minute ago, from New York. I was bringing you that coupe weve been talking about. That yellow car I was driving this afternoon wasnt mine do you hear? I havent seen it all afternoon.
Only the negro and I were near enough to hear what he said, but the policeman caught something in the tone and looked over with truculent eyes.
Whats all that? he demanded.
Im a friend of his. Tom turned his head but kept his hands firm on Wilsons body. He says he knows the car that did it It was a yellow car.
Some dim impulse moved the policeman to look suspiciously at Tom.
And what colours your car?
Its a blue car, a coupe.
Weve come straight from New York, I said.
Someone who had been driving a little behind us confirmed this, and the policeman turned away.
Now, if youll let me have that name again correct Picking up Wilson like a doll, Tom carried him into the office, set him down in a chair, and came back.
If somebodyll come here and sit with him, he snapped authoritatively. He watched while the two men standing closest glanced at each other and went unwillingly into the room. Then Tom shut the door on them and came down the single step, his eyes avoiding the table. As he passed close to me he whispered: Lets get out.
Self-consciously, with his authoritative arms breaking the way, we pushed through the still gathering crowd, passing a hurried doctor, case in hand, who had been sent for in wild hope half an hour ago.
Tom drove slowly until we were beyond the bend then his foot came down hard, and the coupe raced along through the night. In a little while I heard a low husky sob, and saw that the tears were overflowing down his face.
The God damned coward! he whimpered. He didnt even stop his car.
* * *The Buchanans house floated suddenly toward us through the dark rustling trees. Tom stopped beside the porch and looked up at the second floor, where two windows bloomed with light among the vines.
Daisys home, he said. As we got out of the car he glanced at me and frowned slightly.
I ought to have dropped you in West Egg, Nick. Theres nothing we can do tonight.
A change had come over him, and he spoke gravely, and with decision. As we walked across the moonlight gravel to the porch he disposed of the situation in a few brisk phrases.
Ill telephone for a taxi to take you home, and while youre waiting you and Jordan better go in the kitchen and have them get you some supper if you want any. He opened the door. Come in.
No, thanks. But Id be glad if youd order me the taxi. Ill wait outside.
Jordan put her hand on my arm.
Wont you come in, Nick?
No, thanks.
I was feeling a little sick and I wanted to be alone. But Jordan lingered for a moment more.
Its only half-past nine, she said.
Id be damned if Id go in; Id had enough of all of them for one day, and suddenly that included Jordan too. She must have seen something of this in my expression, for she turned abruptly away and ran up the porch steps into the house. I sat down for a few minutes with my head in my hands, until I heard the phone taken up inside and the butlers voice calling a taxi. Then I walked slowly down the drive away from the house, intending to wait by the gate.
I hadnt gone twenty yards when I heard my name and Gatsby stepped from between two bushes into the path. I must have felt pretty weird by that time, because I could think of nothing except the luminosity of his pink suit under the moon.
I hadnt gone twenty yards when I heard my name and Gatsby stepped from between two bushes into the path. I must have felt pretty weird by that time, because I could think of nothing except the luminosity of his pink suit under the moon.
What are you doing? I inquired.
Just standing here, old sport.
Somehow, that seemed a despicable occupation. For all I knew he was going to rob the house in a moment; I wouldnt have been surprised to see sinister faces, the faces of Wolfshiems people, behind him in the dark shrubbery.
Did you see any trouble on the road? he asked after a minute.
Yes.
He hesitated.
Was she killed?
Yes.
I thought so; I told Daisy I thought so. Its better that the shock should all come at once. She stood it pretty well.
He spoke as if Daisys reaction was the only thing that mattered.
I got to West Egg by a side road, he went on, and left the car in my garage. I dont think anybody saw us, but of course I cant be sure.
I disliked him so much by this time that I didnt find it necessary to tell him he was wrong.
Who was the woman? he inquired.
Her name was Wilson. Her husband owns the garage. How the devil did it happen?
Well, I tried to swing the wheel He broke off, and suddenly I guessed at the truth.
Was Daisy driving?
Yes, he said after a moment, but of course Ill say I was. You see, when we left New York she was very nervous and she thought it would steady her to drive and this woman rushed out at us just as we were passing a car coming the other way. It all happened in a minute, but it seemed to me that she wanted to speak to us, thought we were somebody she knew. Well, first Daisy turned away from the woman toward the other car, and then she lost her nerve and turned back. The second my hand reached the wheel I felt the shock it must have killed her instantly.
It ripped her open
Dont tell me, old sport. He winced. Anyhow Daisy stepped on it. I tried to make her stop, but she couldnt, so I pulled on the emergency brake. Then she fell over into my lap and I drove on.
Shell be all right tomorrow, he said presently. Im just going to wait here and see if he tries to bother her about that unpleasantness this afternoon. Shes locked herself into her room, and if he tries any brutality shes going to turn the light out and on again.
He wont touch her, I said. Hes not thinking about her.
I dont trust him, old sport.
How long are you going to wait?
All night, if necessary. Anyhow, till they all go to bed.
A new point of view occurred to me. Suppose Tom found out that Daisy had been driving. He might think he saw a connection in it he might think anything. I looked at the house; there were two or three bright windows downstairs and the pink glow from Daisys room on the second floor.
You wait here, I said. Ill see if theres any sign of a commotion.
I walked back along the border of the lawn, traversed the gravel softly, and tiptoed up the veranda steps. The drawing-room curtains were open, and I saw that the room was empty. Crossing the porch where we had dined that June night three months before, I came to a small rectangle of light which I guessed was the pantry window. The blind was drawn, but I found a rift at the sill.
Daisy and Tom were sitting opposite each other at the kitchen table, with a plate of cold fried chicken between them, and two bottles of ale. He was talking intently across the table at her, and in his earnestness his hand had fallen upon and covered her own. Once in a while she looked up at him and nodded in agreement.
They werent happy, and neither of them had touched the chicken or the ale and yet they werent unhappy either. There was an unmistakable air of natural intimacy about the picture, and anybody would have said that they were conspiring together.
As I tiptoed from the porch I heard my taxi feeling its way along the dark road toward the house. Gatsby was waiting where I had left him in the drive.
Is it all quiet up there? he asked anxiously.
Yes, its all quiet. I hesitated. Youd better come home and get some sleep.
He shook his head.
I want to wait here till Daisy goes to bed. Good night, old sport.
He put his hands in his coat pockets and turned back eagerly to his scrutiny of the house, as though my presence marred the sacredness of the vigil. So I walked away and left him standing there in the moonlight watching over nothing.
Chapter VIII
I couldnt sleep all night; a fog-horn was groaning incessantly on the Sound, and I tossed half-sick between grotesque reality and savage, frightening dreams. Toward dawn I heard a taxi go up Gatsbys drive, and immediately I jumped out of bed and began to dress I felt that I had something to tell him, something to warn him about, and morning would be too late.
Crossing his lawn, I saw that his front door was still open and he was leaning against a table in the hall, heavy with dejection or sleep.
Nothing happened, he said wanly. I waited, and about four oclock she came to the window and stood there for a minute and then turned out the light.
His house had never seemed so enormous to me as it did that night when we hunted through the great rooms for cigarettes. We pushed aside curtains that were like pavilions, and felt over innumerable feet of dark wall for electric light switches once I tumbled with a sort of splash upon the keys of a ghostly piano. There was an inexplicable amount of dust everywhere, and the rooms were musty, as though they hadnt been aired for many days. I found the humidor on an unfamiliar table, with two stale, dry cigarettes inside. Throwing open the French windows of the drawing-room, we sat smoking out into the darkness.
You ought to go away, I said. Its pretty certain theyll trace your car.
Go away now, old sport?
Go to Atlantic City[93] for a week, or up to Montreal[94].
He wouldnt consider it. He couldnt possibly leave Daisy until he knew what she was going to do. He was clutching at some last hope and I couldnt bear to shake him free.
It was this night that he told me the strange story of his youth with Dan Cody told it to me because Jay Gatsby had broken up like glass against Toms hard malice, and the long secret extravaganza was played out. I think that he would have acknowledged anything now, without reserve, but he wanted to talk about Daisy.
She was the first nice girl he had ever known. In various unrevealed capacities he had come in contact with such people, but always with indiscernible barbed wire between. He found her excitingly desirable. He went to her house, at first with other officers from Camp Taylor, then alone. It amazed him he had never been in such a beautiful house before. But what gave it an air of breathless intensity, was that Daisy lived there it was as casual a thing to her as his tent out at camp was to him. There was a ripe mystery about it, a hint of bedrooms upstairs more beautiful and cool than other bedrooms, of gay and radiant activities taking place through its corridors, and of romances that were not musty and laid away already in lavender but fresh and breathing and redolent of this years shining motor-cars and of dances whose flowers were scarcely withered. It excited him, too, that many men had already loved Daisy it increased her value in his eyes. He felt their presence all about the house, pervading the air with the shades and echoes of still vibrant emotions.